


Reading Between The Lines

by wavesketcher



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5712856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavesketcher/pseuds/wavesketcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No Curse SB: Sometimes reading can reveal more about the author than the story itself; in this case it reveals the book's previous owner. With the whole town engaged in the "Book Swap", the Mayor and the Sheriff are no longer a closed book (both literally and metaphorically). Consequently, the unsuspecting women find themselves falling in love with the owner almost as much as the novel- the story between the lines. (Swan Queen).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is completely random and was thought of approximately 30 minutes ago, upon leaving the Tube Station and seeing a very incongruous bookshelf. Yup, a bookshelf labelled “Book Swap”. And then my brain started whirring and now I’m here, sitting on my bed, hair dampened from rain, desperate to write a little chunk of this incredibly fluffy fanfiction. It’s going to be VERY different to the usual. Firstly, there is no curse. Secondly, Regina isn’t Henry’s adoptive birth mother. Henry lives with his Mom, Emma, and always has. I can’t say whether I will continue with this… that’s all up to whether you guys want me to! And I HAVEN’T abandoned my other story, Hazel. Now let’s begin because this idea cannot wait:

Emma Swan hadn’t read a book in years. It wasn’t that she disliked reading as such; it was more the lack of time spare she had to fully engross herself in a fictional characters life that put her off.

Regina Mills, on the other hand, was a prolific one. She loved everything from the sound of the page turning to the intent behind the words that swam in front of her eyes. It was her escape. And she was all too happy to indulge in its freedom; hence why she overly championed the introduction of, “Storybrooke’s Book Swap.’

“And you’re definitely sure people will participate?” Belle, the town’s librarian, had asked tentatively (and somewhat shocked that the infamous Mayor was keen to abide).

“Yes, positive. The community needs something to pull it together.”

“And a Book Swap is the best way?”

“You came up with the idea! Why are you trying to find fault?” Regina asked, puzzled  yet determined.

“Oh nothing- I er- I am just a bit surprised that you’re in to it. The idea I mean,” the younger brunette mumbled, hiding behind a frame of mahogany curls.

Regina observed her petite stature, adorned with thick red tights and a pretty daisy print dress, and couldn’t quite find it in her to snap at the woman’s insinuation. Instead she just nodded and clicked out the hall in her regal heels, an imperceptible smile gracing her apple red lips.

For several weeks it was just Belle and Regina’s dusty classics ornamenting the rooked shelf, another archaic addition to the crumbling library- probably the reason why it was ignored, or rather brushed over as another part of the architecture, by Storybrooke’s masses. There was a crumpled sign tacked to the front, advertising the swap- defiled by Leroy’s drunken scrawl- and an even more tired looking information leaflet explaining how it works:

**Welcome to Storybrooke’s Book Swap**

**We want to bring the community together- why don’t you join in? Put a favourite book on the shelf, sign your name, and then take out another book. When you’re finished, place it back and bring in another book to swap.**

**Simple!**

**Please ask Belle for more information.**

Appalled by the bare shelves, Regina swiftly decided that a better campaign needed to be established and recruited Ruby, the diner’s most popular waitress, to start spreading the word to customers (everyone in the sleepy town eats at Granny’s). Several more days passed before a third book was placed on the shelf and Belle’s moth eaten copy of “To Kill A Mockingbird” was checked out, eliciting great excitement from the petite brunette. Regina’s mood was lifted too, especially when the number of books began to increase rapidly in abundance.

By week five, the shelf is full and a constant flow of Storybrookers’ are signing in and out a multitude of titles and genres.

Regina starts her day like any other: coffee and a trip to the library. She has been enjoying the book swap much more than she has let on and today, in her hand, is a bright copy of “Peter Pan”. Usually the idea of such a childish read would have her scoffing and commenting on its infantile portrayal of real life, yet there was something raw and so very _real_ in the magic of Neverland that she refused to sleep until she had finished it.

 She dodges the dents in the pavement and writes mental notes in regard to Storybrooke’s maintenance yet fails notice the blur of a red leather jacket leaving the library. Instead she sees Henry Swan examining a copy of “Great Expectations”.

“Surely that is a little old for you, dear?” she asks (bravely, as interactions with children never end very well, especially when concerning the Sheriff’s 12-year –old).

“Maybe… but I like to be challenged,” he replies, his eyes not leaving their glued position on the blurb.

“Right. I take it you like reading then?”

At this the boy lifts his head dramatically and genuinely smiles at her, “Yeah! I _love_ to read.”

Regina widens her eyes a little at his reaction and desperately tries to eschew the warmth that pools in her heart at his raw excitement. She glances down at the novel that is still in her hand and suddenly notices the small handwriting in the corner: _Swan_.

And she finds herself smiling back at him.

The boy leaves and Regina shifts over to the shelf, which is slowly sagging under the weight of titles. There is a pile of sticky notes to her left and the mayor peels one off and tacks it to the front cover, elegantly printing a note on to the yellow paper:

_I didn’t think I was going to enjoy this. I guess I never really grew up : )_

She isn’t sure why she so desperately wants to read another childish novel, but she does, and finds herself relieved at the sight of a tea stained “Alice In Wonderland”. This one is in considerably worse condition than her previous read, surprising as Henry Swan strikes her as a boy who thrives on presentation. It does little to bother her though; a battered book is her guilty pleasure. Placing her own book on the shelf to complete the transaction (Oscar Wilde’s, “A Picture Of Dorian Grey”) she pulls out the new novel.  _Thank you, Henry._  

* * *

 

“Madame Mayor? Sorry to, you know, disturb you but I _really_ need to ask you something.”

Regina heaves a sigh at Emma’s message over the intercom and reluctantly presses the button to open her door. The Sheriff looks rather bedraggled in appearance; blonde curls a tangle atop of her head, red jacket tied round her waist and her left thumb frantically drawing circles over her beloved swan necklace. Yes, she is in quite a state.

Emma doesn’t wait for Regina, instead she practically blurts out he worry as if it were projectile vomit. “Do you know where Henry is!? I can’t find him anywhere!”

At this, the calm and composed Mayor inhales sharply. “When did you last see him?”

“Last night! I haven’t seen him at all this morning.”

“I assume you’ve asked Mary Margaret, Belle, Ruby, David etc…”

Emma’s cheeks blush slightly and she fumbles for words, “Er no.”

“No? Why on earth are you asking me then?”

Regina narrows her eyes, utterly confused yet intrigued to gauge Emma’s reaction.

“Oh I’m sorry- it was- it doesn’t matter- I’ll ask- yeah I’ll ask Ruby or- or someone,” the blonde splutters exiting the room, her usually pale complexion now resembling that of a rose.

Regina remains stupefied, the words “I’ll help you find him,” suspended in nothingness.

* * *

Horrible images of Henry’s whereabouts haunt her as she tries to sleep. She has no idea whether he has been found or not. Why should she? She isn’t Emma’s friend and she certainly isn’t Henry’s mother. Although she can’t help hoping that she’ll receive a call or even just a simple text to ease her worry. She sighs and flicks on her night lamp. It immediately illuminates the battered book she had taken out earlier that day, the wear and tear only magnified under the harsh artificial light. Hands gravitating towards it, she cradles the paper in her palms and begins to read the first page. It’s quite a struggle; there are scratches and ink pools all over the writing- trails of water that have snaked across the surface in an angry zigzag. There are pencil markings too, underlining’s and tiny little drawings of a rabbit holding a rather wiggly pocket watch that make Regina chuckle in light affection. A large drawing of the reader’s interpretation of Alice can be found on the neighbouring page and, despite it not being a work of art, Regina can easily find the intention behind the light mark making.

She lifts the book out of the shade and suppresses a gasp at what she reads.

_Sometimes I feel like Alice. I feel lonely and misunderstood. But there’s no rabbit, no hole for me to escape to and certainly no Wonderland._

The book definitely belongs to Henry; a “Swan” can be seen very clearly on the first page in black Sharpie. Regina sighs and pictures the little boy that has grown up seemingly happy from what she has observed. If one ignores her incompetency, Emma is a loving mother and Henry has never been short of affection. _But why on earth would he write that?_

Regina has several options yet she chooses the safest: read the book. And she does. All of it. Leaving Storybrooke’s Mayor with a myriad of unanswered questions and the belief that a book reveals much more about the owner than it does the story.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma pushes open the door to the Mayoral Office quite happily the next morning. She isn’t entirely sure _why_ she is so insistent on entering the dragon’s lair, she just is. And for Emma that is enough incentive to not question or psychoanalyze her actions any further. She is not, however, expecting to see her favourite Madame Mayor looking quite so dishevelled on a Wednesday morning.

“Did you find him?” the brunette exclaims, jumping out of her seat so suddenly Emma ponders of the possibility of a hidden ejector button- one that her presence has just triggered.

“Sorry, what?” Emma knits her eyebrows together, forming a soft line of confusion marring her brow.

“Henry! Did you find him?”

“Oh _right_. Yeah, I did.”

Regina’s face begins to contort in to lightly simmering rage and Emma is confused for the umpteenth time since her encounter with the brunette. “I couldn’t sleep! I was up all night worrying and you didn’t even think to tell me!” Emma frightens herself watching the older woman’s lip tremble in anger, the vein in her forehead pulsing as if the little stream of blue had just run a marathon.

“I don’t know- I’m sorry- I just...” she inhales, “I didn’t think you would care that much.”

“You come bursting in to my office to tell me that your _son_ is _missing_ and you don’t think I’d care?”

Emma says nothing. Blinking appears to be the only function that works right now (that and shaky breathing).

“I know everyone thinks that I’m a heartless witch but I’m not. Not really.” And Regina’s voice is smaller than Emma has ever witnessed. It’s a perverted privilege to hear the powerful woman reduced to fragility yet it’s simultaneously horrible. And Emma wants nothing more than to comfort her.

She says her next words with an intensity that she can only pray stabilises Regina, “I don’t. I never have, Regina, and I never will.” Surprisingly, she finds that she means those words.

Brown pools widen momentarily before Regina’s posture straightens and her regal mask slips over her weakness once more. “Where did you find him?”

Emma’s cheeks are tinted pink, “Erm… the library.”

“Oh,” Regina chuckles slightly, unsurprised, “Yes, he does love reading doesn’t he?”

“Clearly,” Emma smiles, relaxing immediately at Regina’s quick giggle, “Though I didn’t know he loved it enough to get locked in there!”

Regina rolls her eyes. “I had hoped Henry hadn’t inherited your idiocy although it seems that in this case genetics can prevail.”

Emma isn’t offended, instead she laughs- a meaty guffaw that startles Regina (and Emma for that matter) yet sits merrily atop of both woman’s ears. And there is something so contagious in laughter that Regina finds herself humming to the sound of Emma as well. It’s messy, disjointed and entirely alien to the pair but somehow just _works,_ and Emma leaves the office, with a pile of paperwork, much happier than she has been in weeks.

* * *

 

Unlike the Mayor, the Sheriff had not been so eager to participate in the Book Swap. It was only after Mary Margaret unfairly brought out the ‘Do it for Henry’ card that she acquiesced.

“Come on Emma. Henry loves reading.”

“Henry’s a nerd,” the blonde mumbled, her spoon diving in to a healthy chunk of Ben and Jerry’s Fish Food.

Her best friend playfully scolded her, “Emma you can’t say that!” and hit Emma with a newspaper.

“Yes I can, I’m his mother,” Emma retaliated by smacking Mary Margaret on the head with her spoon.

“OW! And that is precisely why you _should_.”

And so it was decided that Emma would take one of the very few books she had read when she was younger to the book shelf early the next morning. Her most beloved copy of “Alice In Wonderland” was tucked under the crook of her elbow as she stopped off at the library before her morning shift. It was in terrible condition, one that she had since she was fourteen- years- old and had travelled with her from care to home to care home all the way to her real _home_ , but she didn’t care. The book was a projection of herself and, as reluctant as she was to part with it, Mary Margaret ensured her that it would lead to greater things, ie a tighter community (cue a scoff from Emma).

Belle smiled at her as she slipped the book in the shelf. “Pick carefully, Emma.”

The blonde nodded yet couldn’t quite understand the significance of _picking a book_ ; hence why she did the complete opposite and randomly attacked the spine of an incredibly boring looking novel, “Little Woman”, and left the library just as the Mayor was walking in.

Now the novel sits next to the insurmountable mountain of paper work, teasing her. Telling herself it is procrastination, Emma sighs and grabs the thick rectangular object and, thumping her legs upon the table top, settles down in to the chair to start reading.

_“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” grumbled Jo, lying on the rug._

_“It’s so dreadful to be poor!” sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress._

Three pages in has Emma internally screaming at the characters _to get off their asses and do something_ and she is more than ready to give up and confirm that the book is just as (if not more) boring than she had initially thought.  It is then she notices the slight pencil markings on the left hand page, tiny, almost non-existent yet there in startling tangibility once you gauge its presence. Little stars littered the page, a smattering of the reader’s own galaxy, increasing in size as they neared the first line. Emma squints and traces the trail of star dust with her index finger wondering who on earth would doodle so intricately on a beloved book.

She turns the novel over in her hand and marvels at the soft ripples in the paper, dampened by something that is too light to be water… perhaps tears? The book is old, no doubt. Very old. The corners of the pages are creased in use and crinkle lines betray age like the rings of a tree stump, yet it’s clear that the owner has taken great care of it for many years. Emma begins to fabricate an image in her head of the potential reader. At first she envisages a crumbling old granny, wrinkles like deep crevices in a parched desert- an emulation of the book itself… yet soon her mind takes a different turn and a woman takes her place, tainted by a heartbroken past.

And Emma soon finds that she likes this story much better.

* * *

 

Regina is shocked, to say the least, to find the town’s Sheriff fingering over the spines of the novels on the shelf. She watches her for a while, intrigued by the blonde’s sudden interest in literature before clearing her throat and smiling at the little yelp Emma makes in surprise.

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is the Sheriff _actually_ debating whether to read a book or not?” she says slyly, words dripping in venomous sarcasm.

Emma buries her hands in to the back pocket of her jeans and rocks nervously, “I’m trying to get in to it- for Henry.”

“Are you sure the children’s section isn’t more suited to you?”

“Ha Ha very funny,” Emma quips back, rolling her eyes at how easily they both fall back in to banter. “Although… I do actually like reading children’s stories, especially the classics. There’s something _real_ about them even though they’re all about made up places.”

Regina blinks. “Yes, I agree completely.”

Emma smiles at her shyly, “Anyway, I’ll be off. I’ve picked up my new book and submitted another one. I’ll see you around Regina- I mean, Madame Mayor.”

Regina doesn’t look in time to catch a glimpse of the title; instead she is too busy staring at the copy of “Alice In Wonderland” in her grip.

“Surprising to find Emma here, huh?” Belle asks sweetly, grinning as if she knew a secret.

“Yes,” Regina muses, scanning shelves to search for another one of Henry’s novels. She notices that her own copy of “Little Women” is back on the shelf. Pulling it out, she traces her thumb over the cover, relieved to have her oldest favourite back in her grasp.

“Someone returned that this morning,” Belle giggles and Regina pivots to stun her with an unamused glare.

“Miss French, what _is_ so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” she says flippantly, blatantly lying through her teeth. “Mr Gold said that he’d take me out later. I guess I’m just happy.”

Regina grimaces at the mention of that slimy man’s name. “I will never know what you see in that insufferable imp.”

Her statement only widens Belle’s grin, “Sometimes the universe ties us to people we least expect.”

Eyes glittering, and the ghost of a chuckle still gracing her lips, the petite woman practically skips off in to the library’s depths- no doubt to drown herself in the mundane task of ordering the novels alphabetically. Regina turns back to the bookshelf and skims over the titles before adding “The Wizard of Oz” on top of her own copy of “Little Women.” Confident that once again a tiny “Swan” graces the inside cover, Regina slips in another one of her favourite classics and disappears out the library with a thirst for both kinds of stories.

She slides in to her favourite seat at Granny’s (at its busiest obviously) to have her afternoon coffee and observe- spy- on every Storybrooker flirting, or arguing or gossiping over full cups and a plate of fries. If she allows herself to, she can potentially feel quite lonely. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t need people. People let her down; people break the walls she has worked so hard to build. She is a closed book and she intends to keep it that way.

She sighs and takes a long sip of her hot cup, inhaling the steam, allowing it to warm _everything_. She pushes open the cover of her much loved “Little Women” novel and begins to leaf through the pages that kept her alive in times where she had lost the light. A little note flutters out. Regina’s heart doesn’t usually start to race but upon seeing the hand written scrawl, it most definitely does. She remembers all too well drawing those stars over page three and gasps when she reads the writing adorning the little scrap of paper:

_I think your little galaxy is beautiful. Imagine being a part of that; a star amongst millions._

Regina has no idea who wrote the note. She has no idea why it makes her stop breathing for a little second. And, as she shakes the book over the table, she has no idea why she is so disappointed that no more fall out.

“Erm.. Miss Mills?”

The woman looks up and widens her eyes at the boy who is standing in front of her. His little striped scarf tight around his neck, large puffy coat that widens his size so much it is almost comical and outstretched mitten gesturing towards her mug makes her heart melt a little. She tells herself it’s the warm coffee.

“Henry, hello. Please- just call me Regina.”

“Oh okay… er… Regina?”

“Yes, Henry?”

“How much longer are you gonna be drinking that?”

“I don’t know. Why on earth do you ask?”

“Because my Mom wants to talk to you- she’s outside.”

“Oh.”

And her heart rate speeds up just a little bit once again.

* * *

 

Emma’s hands begin to clamp up, despite the ridiculous chill engulfing Storybrooke. She has spent ages trying to figure out what she will say to Regina but the thought of _actually_ saying it scares her hugely. She watches nervously as her ever-growing boy leads a very perplexed Mayor out of the diner.

“Miss Swan?”

“Hi, yes, that’s me,” Emma cringes at her awkwardness and doesn’t dare peak a glance at Regina’s unamused face. “I wanted to ask you- and don’t feel like you have to say yes, it’s not like that at all- I just felt bad and- “

“She wants to apologise for last night and was wondering whether you’d come out to drinks with her and the girls,” Henry fills in for his bumbling mother.

Regina formulates the only thing she can in that second, “And who are the girls?”

“Ruby, Mary Margaret and Belle- she was desperate to come for some reason,” Emma mumbles in to her scarf.

“I don’t usually go out anywhere. I prefer to stay inside and do work.”

“That’s boring,” Henry quips, grabbing on to the Mayor’s hand as if to try and shake the woman out of her irritating work ethic.

Emma squeaks loudly and wills HeH

 Henry to let go of her boss but the older woman seems oddly at peace with the physical touch, perhaps even happy.

“Okay,” Regina says carefully, as if tasting the words on her tongue for the first time.

“Cool! Meet us at the Rabbit Hole at 8pm,” the blonde grins, grabbing Henry and pretending she doesn’t hear the gasp it elicits from Regina as his gloved hand slips out of hers.

Mother and son walk away from the diner in step, Emma a confliction of emotions. She messes up her son’s hair with her free hand, earning an annoyed groan from the twelve year old. “We did good, kid. We got the scary Mayor to leave her house for a few hours.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty impressive Mom.”

“You like her, don’t you kid?”

“Who?”

“Regina. You like her don’t you.”

“Yeah course, don’t you?”

Emma stops walking and chews over the concept in her brain. She has never explicitly been asked if she _likes_ Regina.

“Yeah… I suppose I do.”

“Good,” Henry grins. They walk on in comfortable silence for several minutes before the boy speaks up again, “You know she had your book next to her in the diner.”

“What?”

“Your book, “The Wizard of Oz”. She must have taken it out of the Book Swap.”

“Shit.”

“Mom!”

“Sorry, kid. That’s just- well that’s just odd. And kind of bad.”

Emma spends the majority of her evening worrying over Regina reading her book. She was a messed up kid for so long, no doubt her books bear the aftermath of that. Every page was often full of scribbles and notes and drawings and _anything_ that a pencil could do to help her escape the awful reality. The thought of Regina reading that…

_But why? Why on earth would Regina take out a children’s book?_

She has to get it back. She has to get back all of them. It is too hard. She isn’t ready to open the book just yet. The scars of her past have been concealed for far too long; she was naïve to think it would be okay to reopen the wounds. To _Regina_ no less!

But she can’t just stop. She is far too intrigued by the woman with a broken heart, the one that fashions tiny galaxies to secrete away a pain that hurts too much to be deemed as mortal.

She can’t leave, not when she’s fallen so deep in to the story. And it’s only book one.


	3. Chapter 3

 “Where the hell is she Emma?” Ruby grumbles, already starting on her second drink as the group waits patiently (in some cases) for Regina’s arrival.

It’s half eight and entirely unlike the punctual Mayor. Emma sighs and takes a sip of her beer, attempting to ease her nerves. The idea of Regina being _out_ with them has been haunting her all day and this constant _waiting_ is doing little to calm her.

“Are you sure she’s okay?” Mary Margaret asks, ever the concerned friend, cradling her orange juice and no doubt thinking of David and romantic walks by the lake. Emma often pinches the woman to shake her out of the sickening fluffy fantasies.

“Maybe you should go and check outside?” Belle supplies.

Emma heaves a sigh and pushes herself off the bar stool. Outside, the winter air nips at her bare arms and she begins to shiver uncontrollably, wishing she had bought her red leather jacket despite Ruby’s claims of “NO! That clashes horribly!” Yet sure enough the Sheriff spots a very Regina-like figure huddled against the railing, her stilettoes dangling precariously over the water.

“Regina?”

The woman turns, face immediately mutating to beetroot as she notices the blonde. “Miss Swan, I-“

“It’s okay. I get it.” And Emma plops down beside her, ever the graceful Swan that she is (not).

“Get what?”

“Why you’re scared to come in.”

“I’m not scared! I’m-“

“Frightened. Apprehensive. Come on Madame Mayor, I know you well enough to realise that you don’t go out very often. It’s daunting- I get it.”

Regina huffs a sigh and Emma chuckles, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, Miss Swan. I’m afraid you are.”

The unlikely pair sit, consumed by a silence that both women know will need to be filled. Surprisingly, Regina speaks first.

“I’m not exactly the most popular woman in Storybrooke. I don’t have _friends_ exactly…”

“How long have you have lived here?”

“In Storybrooke? Oh….” the Mayor sighs, running a hand through her thick and incredibly bouncy hair (as Emma finds herself noticing). “Since I finished college. I moved here for a fresh start.”

Emma wants to ask her more. _A fresh start from what? Why? How did you get to be how you are now?_

Instead she plays safe, “I used to be like you. I never let anyone in to my life after Henry’s dad let me down. It was just me and Henry and I used to convince myself that that was okay, that I wasn’t lonely. It took moving here to realise that I was and that I needed other people to be there for me- other than my then 10-year-old kid.”

Silence.

“I get it, Regina, I really do. You’re guarded and you’re scared to break down your walls and let someone in. To let the world in,” she pauses, suddenly weary that she’s said too much and the woman will break, snap, crumble. But she doesn’t. She just remains fixated on a tiny spark in the water, a distant light that bounces with the soft ripples. Poetry that Emma wishes she could share with the brunette.

She sneaks a glance at Regina and is instantly captivated. The woman in front of her looks anything but closed off as moonlight tickles her cheek. If Emma were a painter she would have tinged her canvas with all the blues and whites and browns and golds that embodied the picture to her left. There is something so startling beautiful about seeing someone you _think_ you know in, quite literally, a different light. And Regina looks just that. Beautiful.

“Henry’s a lovely boy.”

The sudden injection of sound both relaxes and unnerves the blonde. She shakes her head and wills her eyes to look away from the enchanting woman beside her and nods, “Yeah he can be annoying though. Feel free to have him whenever.” She’s laughing but her words seem wrong, too real as they create an elephantine silence between them once again. This one swimming with unsaid truths and harsh realities… because Emma finds that she would be more than alright if Regina looked after her son every now and again.

“Come on, let’s go in. It’s freezing!” She extends a hand towards the woman and watches as Regina falters, her hand uncurling slightly as if to take it.

But she doesn’t.

“Thank you, Miss Swan. I’m quite capable of standing up myself.”

* * *

 

“She’s here!” Mary Margaret grins, an over the top cheer accompanying.

Emma cringes.

“Sorry I’m late,” Regina says coolly, nodding in turn to each of the other the woman.

“No problem, we weren’t aware,” Belle says innocently, and Emma wants to slap her hand.

_Why is everyone acting so weird?_

“Can I get you a drink?” she asks Regina, as her three friends collapse in to whispers. Emma growls internally.

“It’s alright. I can pay,” Regina says stiffly, walking over to the bar with her usual authoritative gait.

When out of ear shot, Emma explodes in to agitated hisses, “Guys! Stop acting weird.”

Ruby just laughs.

“We’re sorry, Emma,” Mary Margaret reassures her, clutching her warm hand over Emma’s cold one. “It’s just unusual to see you and the Mayor in such a… casual setting.”

“What do you mean me and the Mayor?”

She doesn’t get an answer because Regina slips in to the seat beside her and all the woman hold their glasses in to the air, cheering. Conversation soon mutates in to a tipsy giggle as Emma tells stories of Henry and her many admirers she gets at the station.

“What about Killian!?” Ruby squeals, clapping her hands on the table and almost knocking over Regina’s still full drink.

Emma makes a face, “Ew noooooooo. He’s too….”

“Masculine. Hairy,” Belle giggles, winking to no one in particular.

“I’ll have him,” Ruby drawls as her straw creates a little whirlpool in her cocktail.

“What about you, Regina?”

All eyes turn to the silent brunette after Mary Margaret’s question. Regina shifts uncomfortably and finally takes a sip of her drink. “Every man in this town is repulsive,” she says icily, instigating a myriad of laughs from the table.

“I agree,” Emma grins, holding her glass up in the air and taking a large gulp.

“But you have _so_ many admirers!” Ruby yelps, leaning over the table in excitement.

“I do?”

Everyone rolls their eyes.

“Duhhhhh,” Ruby drawls, “You’re gorgeous and everyone likes you. That guy…” she chokes suddenly, and Emma supplies a pat on the back, “That guy…. What’s his name? The lumberjack?”

“Oh Darren?”

“Nooooooooo,” Ruby giggles, her mental state rapidly swinging towards drunk. “Robin!”

Emma glances over at Regina. The brunette looks positively confused and Emma finds herself relieved.

“Robin? How on earth do you know?”

“He was asking me about you,” Emma says nonchalantly.

“Oh? And what did you say?”

“The truth.”

And with that she slides out of the booth and escapes to the bathroom. It’s considerably cooler than the bar and doesn’t swirl with unexplainable feelings. Emma closes her eyes and inhales deeply, gauging her reflection in the mirror as if to stare herself down.

_Get a grip, Emma. What’s wrong with you?_

But she can’t shake the image of Regina tainted by moonlight from her mind. The soft and peaceful look that adorned her often wound up features, the ache she had for the brunette to tell her _everything_. She remembers the book and groans.

_Stupid, Emma, stupid! Now she’s going to know how messed up you were. And still are._

The door clicks open and Emma heaves a sigh in relief when it is only Belle.

“There you are! Regina’s gone by the way.”

“What?”

“She just said that she had to go. She told me to thank you for the invitation.”

_Shit._

Emma pulls hair over her face in exasperation. She feels awful. What was she thinking, abandoning the woman? She knew how uncertain she was and she just left her in such an orthodox way it probably looked ridiculously rude.

_Shit._

“Emma,” Belle asks softly, “What made you get up?”

“I don’t know,” the blonde answers honestly, “I’m scared to think about it.”

So she doesn’t. She slips back in to the booth as if nothing has happened. She laughs with her friends and drinks until he eyes droops from tiredness.

And yet Regina still remains in the forefront of her mind, haunted by moonlight.

* * *

 

Regina is all too happy to escape the darkened bar as she turns her key in the lock. Mifflin Street is tranquil, bathed in the moon’s graceful light, and she basks in its familiarity. She tries to ignore Emma’s comment and disappearance so pours herself a glass of ice and trudges upstairs on sore feet. Scowling at her reflection in the mirror, the brunette yanks off her too tight dress and peels off her makeup using a scratchy wipe- her night routine completely abandoned. She engulfs herself in bed covers and only fully relaxes once the novel is in her hand.

“The Wizard of Oz”

* * *

 

Dreadful hangover and all, Emma groggily enters the library with one intention: get back her books. Henry is ill today so she needs to be quick- besides a morning walk will hopefully kill her pounding headache. She stumbles over to the bookshelf, cursing her undone laces and earning a raised eyebrow from Belle.

“Don’t look so smug,” she growls at the brunette, “You drank too!”

“Yup but clearly not as much,” she laughs before disappearing in to the library stockroom. Emma sticks a rude sign up at her back playfully and Belle returns one without so much as looking around.

Emma laughs loudly and turns back to the bookshelf, tired eyes scanning aimlessly. At last she spots her archaic copy of the “Wizard of Oz” and clutches it too her chest possessively. As she does, a piece of paper drifts out and into her awaiting palm.

_I never liked Dorothy either. Misunderstood bad guys are much more to my liking._

And Emma finds herself smiling so damn hard her cheeks might burst. She is learning more and more about the Mayor every day and with each new bit of information she finds herself aching to _know_ more also. It still scares her, the thought of her secrets, her scars being revealed. It scares her to think of Regina reading her, opening up her book but she’ll allow it if she discovers more about the intriguing woman.

Emma grins again as she decides to leave her copies where they are. She is just about to leave when she remembers the woman with the tiny galaxies and immediately dives back in the shelf, hungry for another novel.

“Belle?” Emma calls over her shoulder.

“Yes!”

“Can you come here a second?”

The brunette sighs playfully, “Emma, you’re so demanding.”

Ignoring the comment, the Sheriff shoves the book under the other woman’s nose. “Do you know who put this book here!?”

Belle takes a step back to focus and when she does her eyes widen (and slightly sparkle). “Yup, I do actually.”

“Good,” Emma grins, “Because I need to take out another one by the same owner.”

Belle giggles as she grabs another moth eaten book from the shelf. “Here you go.”

Emma examines the cover for a moment, tracing her fingers over the same sleeve her mysterious owner would have ran her fingers over again and again. She has her own story to tell and Emma wants so badly to read it.

“It seems crazy, miraculous even, that you’re suddenly so interested in literature?” Belle feigns shock as the blonde begins to head towards the door.

Emma grins and chucks her head back for a second, blonde hair flying; “Oh I’m not actually going to read it!”

* * *

 

Regina Mills is most certainly _not_ expecting the whirlwind of a Sheriff to bump in to her on her walk to the library. She growls as her coffee dampens her sleeve, “Miss Swan, why do you have to be so clumsy!?”

Emma shrinks back under the curl of the brunette’s lip, eyes rimmed with a slight shock and an almost drunken stare that doesn’t quite capture Regina’s eye as it usually does.

“I’m sorry Regina,” she mumbles.

“Madame Mayor.”

Hurt flickers across the blonde’s face for a second before dissolving in to professionalism. “Right, of course- Madame Mayor.”

Regina huffs and begins to make her way past the stupid woman before a hand grabs at her arm. She feels her skin burn under the contact. “Let go of me!” And it comes out more of a squeal than a frustrated hiss and Emma raises her eyebrow.

_Why is she so infuriating?_

“I want to apologise. I know I behaved ridiculously last night and I-“

“Miss Swan, I don’t know what you’re referring to. You merely went to the toilet and I merely left. The bar was just too crowded and far too hot.”

Regina knows she’s lying. Emma’s rapid departure has been on her mind all morning and evening. She knows that it had something to do with her wanting to leave so suddenly. But she refuses to psychoanalyse her actions. Emma Swan is far too complicated and she’s far too fragile. Maybe she’s both.

Emma squints at the woman. “Why are you acting like this… so formal- acting as if we haven’t opened up to one another?”

The Mayor swallows thickly and tries to think of _anything_ to say, sharp witted or not. Yet for once her usual quick comeback system fails her and she just opens her mouth then closes it again.

“Fine,” Emma says curtly, “I guess I’ll see you at the next council meeting.”

“Tuesday,” Regina calls after her back, finding her voice at last.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Yet there is nothing but deflation in Emma’s voice, perhaps even malice.

It is only then, that she realises the book the Sheriff had been holding, “The Wizard Of Oz” and more importantly, her own novel, “The Picture Of Dorian Grey.”

“Belle!” Regina demands, stomping in to library with an unexplained fury she can’t pin point.

“Let me guess- you bumped in to Emma?”

“Yes and she-“

“Let me guess- she had your book?”

“Yes and-“

“Just trust me, Regina. Trust Emma. You’ll be surprised.”

“But why on earth would she have it? She doesn’t care for literary texts! She doesn’t care for any kind of book!”

Belle sighs, “Take a deep breath and look at yourself, Madame Mayor. Why is it bothering you so much that she has it? It _is_ a Book Swap.”

_Because I’m not ready for her to find out. I’m not ready for her, full stop._

_Because she **can’t** be the same person that said my galaxy was beautiful. _

_She can’t be._

* * *

 

Emma sits with Henry as he falls asleep. Her little boy is drowsy with headaches and stomach pains, it is all she can do to smooth down his hair and cradle him as if he were a baby once again. It is only when the sleeping melody of snoring drifts through her ears that she pulls out the book. She doesn’t read anything but the highlighted lines that the mysterious woman so carefully pulled her pencil across.

_Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic._

_“What are you?” “To define is to limit.”_

_Somethings are more precious because they don’t last long._

_You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know._

_Be afraid of nothing._

_Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and will tell you the truth._

The words are stunning, even Emma can admit that. Yet the woman who held the pencil; who turned the pages, who caressed each paragraph as if were a eulogy of life was undoubtedly more. She needed more. She needed more information, more words, and more tiny galaxies and with each page the blonde was finding trails of stars.

_“I have given away my whole soul to someone who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer's day.”_

_To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all._

And then she finds it. A piece of the puzzle that is the owner of these beautiful stories: stories that tell stories within its stories, beyond the words, beyond the page. Written, on the inside back cover, a tiny note…

_I love you Daniel. Though that’s the saddest tragedy, isn’t it? Love defeats mortality. We were beautiful in our ephemerality yet love was more beautiful. And it beat us. Because now I write in the past tense._

_I’m not sure what I will be without you, what I will become. You told me to love again but I can’t. Not yet. Not whilst I still hear your beating heart, not whilst love is present and you’re nothing but past:_

_I loved you Daniel._

Tears begin to swirl down Emma’s cheeks. She aches, she sobs, and she mourns for the man almost as much as she mourns for the woman. Because this isn’t just poetry, this is a reality- Someone in this town’s reality and she hurts just imagining the pain. No. She can _feel_ the pain, she feels it through the words, through the page and her vision is swimming.

She loved Neil. She loved him so ferociously that he became her very oxygen; she drowned in it without realising. Until it was too late…

She loved Neil and now she loves this story too.

And then she sees it. Tiny yet blindingly obvious:

_Regina Mills_


	4. Chapter 4

Emma slips the book under a cushion when she hears the heavy rasps against the front door. She yanks the hood of her hoodie over the tangle of blonde waves and half stumbles, half slides over to the door.

“Oh phew, M, I didn’t think you were going to co-“

Emma blinks, “What the-?”

“Miss Swan, I would appreciate it if you didn’t look _quite_ so terrified.”

“Regina!” It comes out as a squeak and Emma pinches her lips together in frustration. _Why am I such an idiot whenever I’m around this woman? Maybe I’m just an idiot full stop?_

“I bumped in to a rather flustered Mary Margaret on my walk home. She practically pushed the paracetamol in to my hand,” Regina extends long fingers towards Emma and the blonde fights an embarrassing urge to grab on to the soft palm.

Emma nods and finally looks in to the chocolate eyes waiting expectantly. Emma, no doubt, looks hideous in an archaic hoodie and lidded eyes. _Shit._

“Er—did you want to come in?”

She holds her breath.

Regain widens her pupils and says something neither she nor Emma can believe, “Yes. I will- for Henry.”

The boy himself gleams at the sight of the older woman.

“Hi, Regina!”

The brunette laughs a melodic song that Emma wants to replay over and over again. She drags a hand to her temple. _Stop, Emma. Just stop._

But she can’t. She is intoxicated by a story that she should never have read.

Regina senses her eyes and provides a small smile at the blonde as Henry gabbles on and on about books and how dreadfully hard it is being ill. Emma blushes. She _freaking_ blushes. Cringing, she grabs her mobile of the table and retreats in to the downstairs bathroom.

** Help. I feel weird. It’s Regina.  **

Two minutes later she gets a text back from her best friend:

**_Oh gosh._ **

** Not helpful, M! **

**_Emma._ **

** What!? **

**_I’m coming over._ **

* * *

 

Regina makes a hasty exit upon the arrival of Mary Margaret. Try as she might, she never thinks she will be able to anything more than tolerate that woman. The walk home is definitely _happier_ than usual. Happiness has never been emotion that the Mayor has easily identified with. She never allows herself to feel _unhappy_ but happiness is a far cry from _fine_. And Emma, in the most unlikely of ways, manages to lighten her mood, colour her sky; a soft change from blue to violet.

If the blonde has read her books, she hasn’t said anything. She probably hasn’t. Emma doesn’t do sentimentality. She does red leather jackets and beer and her son and laughter and smiles and cinnamon. Regina shakes her head. She had forgotten to ask Henry about his books, about his Wonderland, his Oz and most recently, his Narnia. He fascinates her in ways she never thought anyone could. Not again.

And Emma. How could anyone in any realm, in any story ever define Emma. Regina doesn’t like mysteries yet there is something so captivating about this one. They never used to smile at each other. It was a development that has happened too quickly. It’s a formation of a galaxy Regina is refusing to acknowledge. And suddenly it is swimming with red leather jackets, a smiling boy and wisp of blonde hair dancing amongst stardust.

_Imagine being a part of that; a star amongst millions._

* * *

 

Narnia is put back on the shelf at 9 am the next morning. There’s a note taped on the inside cover. One that the Mayor had written 6 hours before.

_Henry,_

_I am thoroughly enjoying your little world. You have such wonderful ideas and I just wish you could write more stories. This may seem confusing. I know you didn’t write them: you’re just the owner. But doesn’t the reader have a story of their own too?_

_P.S keep searching for your Wonderland. I have a feeling it is right under your nose._

A Picture of Dorian Grey is nestled in between two other crusty classics at 9: am. There is a small scribble on the inside cover, a tickle of granite against a tear stained page.

_I will never be able to write poetry like you can, I’m sorry. I never used to like reading. I still don’t. I can’t begin to tell you who Dorian Grey is or why he feels so determined to hide his identity. Luckily that’s not the story I’m interested in. This book has changed something with in me. It was precious- I could feel it was. I could feel it in the way the pages had caved in on one another, in the pencil markings in the margin. You’re the author and you’re writing the most fantastic galaxy that just gets bigger and bigger._

Neither book aligns. Neither women cross paths. As Regina chastises Belle, Emma slips in, as Emma laughs with Ruby by the doorway, Regina retrieves her book.

* * *

 

“She thinks I’m Henry.”

The brunette sips her tea and eyes her friend wearily.

“Mary Margaret. She. Thinks. I’m. Henry.”

“Emma, listen. It’s fine.”

“HOW IS IT FINE!?”

She sinks in to the chair in exasperation, yanking strands of hair over her eyelids. The note is still in her hand, crumbled under the pressure of her palm.

“Both of you are complicated. Whatever _this_ is- it’s complicated. It won’t make a difference. She said herself that loves the story told by the reader, not the author. You’re the reader, Emma. You!”

“Yes, exactly! I’m me. Emma Swan; a messed up single mother who is quite literally the _bane_ of Regina’s life.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes, “Stop it. You’re wonderful- Regina knows that.”

“Why do I care? Why do I have to care so much about her stupid story? Why did that bloody book hit me so hard?”

“Because it’s Regina Mills. She’s beautiful in her complexity. She’s easy to fall in love with because she’s so hard.”

“I’m not in love!” Emma yelps, spraying lukewarm coffee over her sleeve and cursing loudly.

“You know what I mean… you’ve always seen her as the Mayor. Cold. Austere. Now you’ve had a glimpse, more than a glimpse, at her past, her real self, her nature and it’s inevitable to feel intrigued.”

“I just….” The blonde dissipates in a groan, her best friend’s hand a stable source of warmth through her jumper.

“Emma. Tell her.”

But she doesn’t want to ruin the story. To give someone like Regina Mills an ending that they didn’t ask for. They will never ask for.

* * *

 

Regina’s pencil makes shadows over the page; the ghost of a galaxy she is too scared to draw. The note was beautiful. Utterly beautiful. But whether that was Emma, or just another story teller determined to rewrite the fabric of her life, she is unsure. Yet she is still desperate to fashion a galaxy. Several galaxies- one on a page in every single one of her most loved books. She isn’t doing it for Emma. She is doing it for the story (which incidentally involves her in it). She writes a note too. A little flap of paper, taped down with masking tape, two tiny words scratched in to the surface:

_Keep reading._

* * *

 

Regina and Emma both simultaneously avoid and indulge one another. There are no words spoken, no physical encounters… just tiny scrawls and a smattering of stars across one page. An identity revealed, whilst one remains hidden.

_Is there a star for every person you’ve ever met?_

_Henry, I loved the quotes you circled. They’re beautiful yet awfully sad at the same time…_

_Why are some bigger than others? Are they reserved for those you love?_

_I never thought I’d read the BFG. Unfortunately, I loved it._

Responses begin to filter through the pages also.

**_I don’t suppose that many people have ever had the pleasure of meeting me, Miss Swan. _ **

**_Thanks! I think there’s beauty in sadness._ **

**_Perhaps. Or loved._ **

**_The BFG is a classic. You have to enjoy it. _ **

* * *

 

The Mayor smooths her palms on the curve of her dress. She’s nervous. She hasn’t met jade eyes in several days and since then every single scar has been unpicked. She’s raw and it’s daunting in its beauty.

“Regina! Hi”

Henry grins at her, his dressing gown slightly askew, a packet of Doritos in his left hand as he holds the door open for the brunette.

“Henry!” She falters, remembering their exchanges and shuffles. The boy seems unfazed and just sparkles at her.

“Mom’s out, sorry. But you’re welcome to come in and drink hot chocolate with me! I kinda need help with the kettle anyway, we got a new one and it’s really weird,” he blushes slightly and Regina caves, acquiescing to this magical little boy.

The kitchen’s a mess of sweet wrappers and coco powder. Empty coke cans lay discarded across the floor and Emma’s iPhone is blaring out something the woman doesn’t even want to unpick. Regina inhales sharply and pivots to face the boy. “Henry Swan! What have you been doing?”

Henry stiffens, suddenly regretting ever inviting in the Mayor- the very _scary_ Mayor. “Errrrrr….”

“Right. We are both cleaning this up. Now.”

Twenty minutes later has Henry washed and ready for bed, Regina perched on the sofa, glasses on her nose as she inspects one of the blonde’s magazines.

“You’re a lot stricter than Mom,” he says suddenly, injecting the familiarity of silence.

Regina laughs, “That’s not hard, Henry.”

“I kinda like it. I like having you here. You can come more often.”

She pauses. She wants it. She does. She has grown so attached to Henry and his little stories yet that doesn’t mean she’s ready to entwine his with her own. She’s been closed off for so long now; she takes every new relationship delicately, still with an ingrained fear that it will one day disappear. And she’ll be broken… again.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“Good.” He slides himself in next to her, grabbing a Harry Potter book the coffee table and immediately creasing his brow in intent concentration.

“Will you ever let me read your beloved Harry Potter?” she teases, gently prodding him in the ribs.

Henry glances up at her, his brow furrowing even deeper, “Yeah, probably. Why?”

“I just thought you only ever put older books in to the book shelf. Your Alice In Wonderland is in dreadful condition!”

“ _My_ Alice In Wonderland,” he muses, “Ohhhh! You mean Mom’s, right?”

“No. Yours.”

Henry blinks and chews his lip. Regina narrows her eyes, “Henry. Please don’t tell me that all those book have been your mothers?”

Henry blinks again.

And Emma walks in.

And Regina walks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do take the time to review... should I continue with this story?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoy :)

“Regina? Regina, please answer…”

Emma’s voice remains a dull echo on the brunette’s ears as she desperately tries to ignore it. _Let it go, Regina. Let her go._

“Look, it’s been three days! I still have no idea why you stormed out or if I have even done something? This is so unfair.”

The last line comes out as a whine, causing the older woman to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Miss Swan, please stop harassing me.”

“She speaks!”

“It’s unprofessional.”

“Unprofessional,” the tinny voice on the machine sounds out, agitated, “Unprofessional!? You can’t just pretend that you didn’t…”

“That I didn’t what, Miss Swan?”

“You know what, Regina, forget it. If you want to keep pushing people away then fine. It makes no difference to me.”

The beep that follows is a very heavy sound.

Ever since leaving that apartment, the Mayor has desperately attempted to eschew any hint of blonde hair from her thoughts. She needs to purify and if that means burying herself in work and actively avoiding the library then so be it. Emma Swan is a member of Storybrooke, a Sheriff and a mother. Nothing more.

“Hi, Regina it’s Belle…” A silence in which Regina rakes a hand through her hair and Belle pauses through the intercom, “I haven’t seen you around in the library for a while. Is everything okay?”

_No._

“Henry’s been in- a few times actually. He is wondering where you are. Just… just pop in when you get a chance Regina. We’re both concerned.”

_And Emma?_

Regina sighs and begins to collapse the mountain of data sheets spilling on to her lap, a dilapidating building that she refuses to demolish. Not yet. Not now; not when her mind Just. Won’t. Focus. Finally, after an hour of procrastination, the Mayor acquiesces to her irritations and begins to stuff belongings in to her handbag.

Granny’s is, like always, ridden with Storybrookers. Regina sighs and slips in to her usual booth by the window, nodding at Ruby who scampers off to make her usual coffee. The brunette drags out this morning’s copy of The Mirror and allows sunlight to bathe her skin as her eyelids begin to flutter under its unforgiving rays. She looks up when Ruby returns, laden with a croissant and a Frappuccino, her eye shifting just a little bit too far left. _Emma._

She hasn’t seen the blonde in three days, not since her escape.  Staring is impolite, her mother drilled that in to her from the youngest age. _But Emma._ Brown eyes begins to swallow the scene in front of her; Emma Swan and her beautiful little boy. The pair laughs as they dip golden fries in to a strawberry milkshake and Regina imagines scolding the two children before stealing one of Emma’s fries herself and tasting the unusual concoction. It’s strange how easily she fits in- a mismatched jigsaw that somehow just _works_. She’s beautiful; dappled sunlight hinting at a freedom Regina only wishes she had. She blinks. Again. And again; as if closed eyes will burn the family’s laughter off her eyelids.

_Don’t let them fall down, Regina. You’ve worked too hard to build your walls._

* * *

 

“Hey Mom, you know Regina keeps staring at you?”

“Huh?” Emma blinks, and pushes past her son’s eye sight, fleeting eye contact with the Mayor broken almost immediately upon impact. She shuffles. “Oh, I didn’t even realise she was there…”

Henry shrugs and pulls out his phone, a little smile gracing his lips as he opens a text message. Emma prepares a torrent of questions yet Ruby’s hand on her shoulder stilts her.

“Hey Ems, what’s up with Madame Mayor?”

The blonde pulls a hand to her temple and sighs, “Why should I know?”

“You two were getting….”

“What?”

“Closer, I guess.”

Emma doesn’t respond, instead she narrows her eyes and drinks in the picture of the intimidating Mayor.

“She needs to smile more.”

“Huh?”

“Regina. She doesn’t smile enough.”

“Emma,” Ruby begins softly, “Have you ever thought to consider _why_ you care so much about Regina’s smile.”

_Because it’s beautiful. Because she’s a galaxy that needs painting and I want to hold the brush._

Galaxies are hard to come by. She’s found- with Henry- a small one but one all the same. A smattering of stars that surround her; stability.

_Regina could be a star._

She has no idea why she left. Regina is unexplainable and Emma doesn’t want to try. Some infinities’ are meant to be smaller- that’s just the way the world works. She isn’t going to change that. She isn’t going to force Regina in to something she can’t even comprehend herself. The woman is special, sure, but special also means fragile. And together they hold a horrible threat.

But why did she leave? Why did she come in the first place? What on earth possessed her to knock on their door? Emma pulls blonde hair over her face, once again hiding behind a curtain that will never shield inner feelings- shield them from herself.

_Emma, stop it. Emma, you can’t._

But she does and she knows it; it’s there in every inch of her being, vibrating under suppression. She just can’t admit it. Not yet. Not when it will only result in heart break.

* * *

 

Emma gives up. She meets up with the girls most nights and watches movies with Henry on the all the others. She immerses herself in everything, _anything_ , but Regina and it works. Most of the time. Times when thoughts train their way back to the Mayor, Emma finds herself re-reading Dorian Gray, unpicking every line, every star until she has a wobbly portrait of Regina’s life. Then she’ll see the woman across the street and everything shatters.

Emma stuffs her hands in to the dregs of her pockets, swallowing any smidgen of pride that wracks her bones and begins to shuffle down the corridor towards the Mayoral Office. Regina, clearly, isn’t going to leave her head so she has one option- _talk to her._

There’s a muffled murmur emanating from behind the wood and Emma strains to distinct between the low grumble and the huskier feminine sound, Regina’s. Laughter. Emma inhales sharply and narrows her eyes, resisting the urge to open the door out of curiosity and something else that is constantly hovering in her mind when it comes to Regina.

“Well… thank you again, for the flowers, and I suppose I’ll be seeing you...”

The door opens a jar and Emma hops backwards, just the man’s hand keeping the heavy wood from slamming on to the blonde’s foot.

“Later,” he says cheekily and Emma internally growls. _Robin._

She turns her back to the door and pretends to be typing a text message- fingers dancing across the slide to unlock screen.

“Emma?” Robin taps her shoulder and she’s all fake smiles and greeting, a façade that masks the unwanted jealousy.

“Robin, hi… how are you?”

He blushes slightly and she resists a very Regina-like eye roll. “Er- well- pretty good, actually.” The man lowers his voice, “Regina actually agreed to go on a date with me!”

“Wow, really?” Emma deadpans, swallowing the urge to say something rude (and probably dripping with sarcasm).

“Yes! Although… I have no idea where to take her. She’s a very-“

“Special woman,” Emma blurts before yanking back her tongue and reddening furiously.

“Yes,” Robin says thoughtfully, “A real lady. I just have no idea where she’d like to go. Do you happen to have any ideas?”

Emma blinks. She can lie- she can tell him that Regina would love a trip to the fish and chip shop in his lumber truck but… This is Regina’s night. One that the blonde knows full well she hasn’t had in a long time. And if anything, Emma wants to bring the smile back in to Regina’s life.

If anyone deserves a chance at a happy ending it is Regina Mills. Her galaxy is expanding and yes, maybe Emma isn’t going to be the one to litter it with stars, but she can certainly provide the paint brush because for once, the brunette is going to be in charge. She is going to defy the ephemerality that she fears so much and magnify her own stardust.

And it will be beautiful because it’s Regina.

“Take her to the beach,” Emma says carefully, “Take her to the beach and give her a rose in the moonlight.”

_Because she’s perfect in moonlight._

* * *

 

Regina sits atop the mountain of clothes from her wardrobe’s stomach in despair. Three hours. _Three hours_ she has spent slipping in to and slipping out of dresses with no such luck. Everything is too tight, too loose, too short, too long, too bright, and too dark. She needs a friend- yet another aspect of her life she alienated.

She sighs as she thinks of Robin: his nervous chuckle as he handed her the bouquet and the dimpled smile he throw her away when she gave in to this ‘date’ fantasy.

_He has too much stubble. Will it be awkward? Where are we even going? What if he’s awful- how do I escape? What if he tries to kiss me?_

_Stop it, Regina._

Pushing down the spaghetti of worries coiling their way around her insides, Regina finally decides on a slim, red dress with a light frosting of ruffles on the v-line. It’s elegant and sophisticated and very, _very_ Regina. Ruffling her hair with a sea salt spray and lining her lips with another coat of mauve, the Mayor barely jumps at the knock at the door. She jumps more at the sight of Robin.

_This is real. So very real._

“Regina-wow…” he breathes and runs a hand through his lightly mused hair.

“Shall we go?” the brunette replies awkwardly, already hating his eyes on her, suddenly desperate for air.

“Of course,” Robin replies, walking her to his car and allowing the lady to slide in to the passenger seat with the upmost chivalry. The moon is just hinting over the horizon and Regina closes her eyes to breathe.

_Imagine being a part of that; a star amongst millions._

* * *

 

Emma parks several spaces down from the lumber car. Opting for Mary Margaret’s much more subtle black Mini, the blonde had escaped Henry’s watching eye just half an hour before Robin and Regina rolled in. It wasn’t spying. It was curiosity.

The sheriff angles her head slightly to drink in the conversation that is happening in the car about fifteen-metres to her right. The sound of the ocean lapses over her thoughts and she drinks her coffee to the sound of fallen stars. A car door opens and she pivots as Regina steps out, all in red, and allows Robin to lace his hand in hers. Emma blinks and is captivated yet horrified at the scene as the man whispers in to the woman’s ear and they stand beside a moon that could’ve been hers. Her and Regina’s. It’s a picture of perfection- a societal perfection- which a town sheriff will never fit in to. Because that’s what she wants, isn’t it? She wants the fairy-tale; she wants to know Regina…to _know_ her; to make her laugh; to entwine their very existence.

Perhaps the Mayor and the Sheriff is a story that is never meant to be written.

There’s a silence in which Emma intoxicates herself in the ocean. Rhythmic waves that echo a stability she will never have unless she let’s go.

“Miss Swan?”

Emma yelps and looks up in to deep brown eyes that have yanked open the car door.

“Regina? What are you-“

“I’m on a… I’m with a friend. He’s gone- Robin- he’s getting a blanket and I _was_ waiting in the car until I saw some familiar blonde hair. What, Miss Swan, are you doing here?”

Emma inhales and only half lies- “It’s the water. I like to come here for clarity. I like the moonlight.”

Regina stares at her, intensely and Emma finds herself drowning in an ocean that she can never swim in.

“Yes. It is rather beautiful.”  The brunette turns and leans against the hood of the car, folding her arms in on herself to keep off the chill of the sea salt. Wordlessly, Emma follows. More of a reflex than a conscious move.

“Regina I-“

“Emma- please- don’t. You found out the dark parts of my past, I found out yours. We were troubled. Let’s just leave it at that.”

_No._

“I can’t,” she whispers back, fuelled by the moonlight that drapes the other woman in an indescribable brilliance.

Regina turns.

“I can’t. I want to read more.”

“Miss Swan, what exactly are you suggesting?”

Emma sighs and averts her gaze to the stars. The galaxies. “You’re the Mayor. The infamous Mayor yet you draw galaxies in the pages of your favourite books. I’m the Sheriff. I’m a mother yet I used to trap myself in a story because reality was too painful… Don’t you see? We’re a story. You’re a story, Regina and I’m-“

“Emma? Regina?” Robin halts the blonde, silences the words before she can even begin to spin them in to something worth hearing.

He smiles awkwardly at Emma then holds his arm out to Regina. There’s a breath.

And then she takes it.

* * *

 

Regina Mills falls in to a slumber of stars. And Emma. She’s laughing- a limitless canvas on which Regina wants to paint her own story. When she awakes, she’s broken. It’s as if she can feel her walls cracking and it’s painful yet liberating and she fears that more than anything. Emma Swan cannot be rewritten.

She has to stop. She has to stop reading between the lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please continue to review...


	6. Chapter 6

She is surprised, if not a little shocked, to see Henry standing by the library shelf. His skinny arms are folded across his torso, a slight frown marring his brow as Regina nods before clicking past him.

“Regina!”

The woman turns around and opens her mouth at Henry’s disappointed stance- it would almost be comical if she weren’t utterly perplexed.

“You haven’t been here in _ages…_ “

Sighing, Regina brings a hand to her temple to ease the dull throb that has decided to inhabit her mental state. “Sorry, Henry, I didn’t think any would notice.”

“Mom has.”

Regina stills.

“Mom comes to the library every day but there’s never a new book for her to take out so she comes home again. And she’s always sad when she does- she doesn’t laugh at my jokes for at least an hour!”

“Gosh, Henry I-“

“I just don’t get it. I thought we were friends- all of us. I thought you liked hanging out with me and I wanted to ask you to come over again: Mom could have ordered take out.”

Regina bites her lip and stares at everything but Henry’s interrogating eyes. _They a slightly lighter shade than Emma’s but just as captivating._ “Why can’t we still do that?”

“Because Mom doesn’t want to anymore.”

The headache intensifies and Regina closes her eyes. _How have I managed to upset two people?_

Henry drops his gaze and begins to pick at his fingernails. “Look, whatever, I just don’t want Mom to be sad anymore.”

“Neither do I,” she whispers. Honestly.

* * *

 

Emma returns the Mayor’s book the next morning. Belle watches her sadly but Emma just shrugs it off with a smile, zipping up her red jacket as she begins her morning patrol. There’s a frosty wind that nips at her neck and the blonde tucks her locks in to her collar for extra warmth. She sees Regina over the other side of the street- a brisk walk with her head turned away from the cold. Emma shakes her head and keeps walking, a new found determination to rid herself from anything Regina. Particularly, Regina and Robin.

She hates wallowing. She’s never been one of those people to drown in self-pity and beg affirmation from everyone around her. When life sucks she grits her teeth and pushes through the turbulence. Yet Regina is like a storm.

In a business meeting, Emma watches Regina’s hands. She observes the way the nails lightly tap together when the brunette becomes tense, the light veins that crease the skin as coffee coloured hands massage her brow. Regina refuses to be forgotten, oblivious or not. She’s there when Emma picks up her grilled cheese, she’s there when Emma opens up the Sheriff station, and she’s there with Robin outside the school gates. The blonde purses her lips at the memory of the pair, a tangled mass of limbs to hide from the cold as Emma had only the wind to hug her.

It’s hard to lose a star when it’s so integral to the galaxy.

“Miss Swan-,” Regina starts, narrowing her eyes at the Sheriff.

Emma hardens and attempts to remain indifferent, “Regina I have already given you the papers.”

“No. You gave me last month’s review- I need February’s.”

“Miss Swan?”

“You can call me Emma, Regina! You don’t just get to choose when the professional mask slips over! I wasn’t Miss Swan when you were unpicking my life or when we drunk together at the bar… or how about when we both sat on the hood of my car gazing in to the ocean!”

She’s breathing heavy and fast. A torrent of emotions erupting from what seems like a lifetime of repression. She doesn’t move- she waits. It’s Regina’s turn.

“Emma… Emma I don’t understand. What’s changed? I don’t know what you want me to do!”

_She doesn’t like you. She’s with Robin._

_Give._

_Up._

“Look, Regina, I’m sorry- I’m being unfair. I just- I thought we were getting somewhere. Maybe even having a…” she swallows… “friendship? I can’t pretend that I’m not fascinated by your past and that I would love to read more books, but I have to respect you. I’m sorry.”

Regina raises an eyebrow, perhaps even a small blush tints her cheeks. “I think I could tolerate a friendship, Miss Swan. I mean-“ ,she smiles shyly, “Emma.”

The blonde nods carefully, “Okay. Henry is desperate for you to come over soon… I know I’m not the greatest cook but-“

“Tonight?”

“Oh wow shit- I mean- yeah! Yes, that would be lovely.”

And she leaves with sound of Regina’s light laughter on her ears.

* * *

 

“Hi, Robin,” the brunette begins, doodling on a piece of paper as the phone rests on her shoulder.

“Regina! Hi!”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t make it tonight…”

The deflation in his voice is tangible, “Oh? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine. Perfect, even.  I just need to cancel tonight, I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause before Robin mutters a quick, “I understand, have a nice night” and hastily says his goodbyes. And Regina stills.

And glances down at the galaxy she has doodled.

* * *

 

Henry is dressed in his favourite shirt and chinos, Vans on his feet and little dimpled smile adorning his still adorable face.

“Look at my grown up boy,” Emma grins, ruffling his hair.

“Moooooom! I put gel in it,” he whines, desperately attempting to fashion his hair back in to the tiny spike it was a second ago.

Emma grins, the annoying mother she is, and begins to grab wine glasses when a knock at the door startles her. Swimming in nerves, the blonde glides over to the door (as effortlessly as she can) and opens it with a smile.

Regina blinks at her expectantly, holding out a posh bottle of wine before stepping inside. Emma takes it gratefully, noting the light dusting of pastel pink on the older woman’s eyelids- quite a change from the usual dramatic eyeliner.

“You look… nice-no I mean…”

“Let’s save the horrible attempts at compliments till after some wine, okay?”

Emma widens her eyes a margin before laughing, “Yes, I think that’s wise.”

The two women gravitate in to the living room where Henry is waiting expectantly on the couch. “Regina!” he grins, jumping up before retreating back in to his usual shyer self, “Hi.”

“Wow, Henry. You look so smart!” Regina smiles; actually impressed or just inflating a 12- year-old’s ego.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, embarrassed yet pleased, “Mom said I looked cute!”

“And cute is bad because?” Regina prompts, placing her bag on the floor by the door and shrugging off her coat. Emma blinks at the older woman’s dress and once again pushes down her feelings.

“Cute is like little kids!” Henry protests.

Regina raises an eyebrow, “So if a girl in your class said you were cute you wouldn’t like it?”

And the boy’s furious blush has both women laughing.

“Okay guys, what shall we order?” Emma asks quickly, hastily avoiding any awkward silences.

Henry turns to the guest before looking at Emma then the brunette again.

“Henry! Not pizza again!” Emma mock scolds, sensing the word forming on her hungry son’s lips.

“But…”

“I do actually fancy a pizza,” Regina muses, earning a hi five from the 12-year-old. Emma grins at them both and disappears in to the kitchen to grab pamphlets. Ten minutes later, ordering done, and a little bit more lip gloss applied, Emma erupts in to laughter at the sight of Regina Mills arm wrestling her son.

“What!” Henry wails as the Mayor beats him once again, “Why are you so strong?”

“I think you’re just too weak,” Emma giggles, jabbing him in the arm and eliciting a yelp.

“I’d like to see you try,” Henry grumbles, “Go on- see if you can beat her!”

_Shit._

“Henry, I think your mother would be too broken by the defeat,” Regina quips, avoiding Emma’s gaze.

Emma nods, “Right, how about we play a board game?”

* * *

 

“You have to admit, that pizza was good,” Emma grins, padding down the stairs after saying goodnight to Henry.

Regina rolls her eyes and nurses her wine glasses, stifling a yawn.

“Yes, Emma that pizza was delicious but I’m too much of a snob to admit that!” Emma says in an over-exaggerated imitation of Regina’s voice.

The brunette narrows her eyes but provides a quick nod before pretending to be engrossed in a magazine. “You really need to widen your literature,” she sighs, leafing through yet another tacky edition.

Emma slips in to the seat beside the other woman, curling her legs underneath. “Maybe, although I thought you enjoyed my childish taste?”

It’s playful. Completely. But Regina can’t help shake a little at the comment. At Emma. This whole night has been a myriad of confusion and laughter and more confusion. She loves this family, she loves feeling a _part_ of something, she loves playing board games and getting frustrated at Emma’s shameful cheating, she loves the way Henry’s nose wrinkles when he’s concentrating and she… she likes Emma. She _likes_ Emma.

She has a story. A broken past- just another soul searching for something stronger than blue tack to patch up the scars. Regina shivers.

“Regina?”

“Can I read another one?”

“Another what? Another magazine?” Emma jokes.

Regina smiles, “Another one of your books.”

“Yeah… sure. Or I could just tell you?”

The brunette doesn’t get a moment to reply as her phone emanates in to life.

_Robin._

“Hello,” she answers, agitation hinting in her tone.

“Where are you?”

She stiffens, irritated. “I’m out, why?”

“I’m at your house. You’re not in.”

“I told you I was going out tonight.”

“I know but its late now. And- and I want to surprise you…”

She should blush or smile or giggle but instead she rolls her eyes, “Well I’m not at home.”

“I can see that. Regina… where _are_ you?”

“I’m at Emma’s.”

“Emma’s?”

“Yes, Emma’s,” she snaps.

It’s too strange. She doesn’t know what to feel. She can’t even keep hold of a happy ending.

“Oh- I see.”

“Robin, don’t. It’s not like that.”

_It is like that. It always has been._

“Then what is it like?”

“It doesn’t matter. Look I’m leaving now anyway, I’ll see you in ten,” she sighs, hanging up as she begins to tidy away the wine glasses- any trace of her.

“Is everything okay?” Emma asks softly.

Regina continues to declutter the side, pushing Emma’s magazines in to piles and yanking her coat off the rack in frustration.

“Regina,” and Emma’s hand is on her arm and she can’t, she _can’t,_ “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” And she pulls away, fearing the burn of Emma’s skin will leave a mark. She pulls open the door just as Emma presses another novel in to her hand.

“Here, this one is pretty dark but- well- you’ll see.”

Regina nods and almost squeezes the pale fingers. _No._

“Thank you, Emma.”

And she steps out in to the night. The galaxies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps some angst coming soon? Or maybe more fluff beforehand? Let me know, guys. Please don’t forget to review.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had writers block for months now. It has been so sad not having any motivation. I’m so proud of this story so far and am relieved to have found the will power and inspiration to continue. Thank you for sticking with this messy love story. To avoid any confusion, I thought I would summarise what has happened so far (although I would recommend re-reading the previous couple of chapters);  
> \- Emma knows that Regina has read her books and likewise Regina knows that Emma has read her books  
> \- Regina went on a romantic date with Robin which Emma gate crashed (lol)  
> \- Regina and Emma were speaking again// Emma and Henry invited the woman over to their house for pizza and then Robin called and Regina had to leave  
> \- There are a lot of unsaid feelings  
> \- We do not know what happened when Regina left Emma’s to see Robin (but we will soon)  
> \- Emma had given Regina another ‘dark’ book before Regina left  
> \- Remember that phrase which Emma wrote in a note to Regina after reading her first book? Yeah, that comes up again  
> I think that is all you need to know although, again, feel free to re-read the story from the beginning. Updates will happen a lot more frequently now- don’t worry. Thank you again!

A knock on the door is the only sound loud enough to arouse her. Regina Mills had fallen in to the deepest of sleeps last night and now, her eye lids opening to the mess around her- wait- LIVING ROOM- can hardly push past the black dots dancing in front of her iris.

_Why on earth am I not in my bed? No, why on earth am I not up!_

Then she notices the teasing drained wine bottle by her feet and groans, suddenly aware of a headache stronger than life itself. The knock intensifies and she struggles to differentiate between the literal rasping on wood and the senses clawing at her skull.

_Urgh._

She hates being hung over. It was years ago, the last time she over drunk. A week after Daniel died and it all suddenly just felt very real. Her mother had found a broken young woman in a heap, surrounded by photo albums and dried leaves.

And she swore to herself that she would never give in to her emotions like that ever again.

Pulling her hair in to a lopsided bun she shuffles to the peep hole in the door frame. Mary Margaret Blanchard and Henry Swan stare back at her, the latter fidgeting as he shift his weight from one foot to the other. Regina almost laughs as she opens the door.

“Regina, I’m so sorry to bother you but-“

She stops her no doubt rehearsed speech to widen her eyes at Regina’s state. Messy hair and crumpled blouse teamed with slippers and panda eyes it not a look one would associate with the Mayor.

“You want to know whether Henry can use my bathroom, right?” Regina snaps icily, fixing a hard stare on the petite woman.

Henry groans in response, his face twisting in discomfort. Regina sighs and pulls her door open a little wider, “Just up the stairs on the left, Henry.”

He nods gratefully and darts past her, half jumping half skipping in a race.

Mary Margaret at least has the decency to look embarrassed, “Sorry, Regina. It was too far to travel home and he assured me that you’d let him. You two are quite close now, I gather?”

“Well…” the brunette sighs and begins to massage her temple as the pain continues to attack her sore head, “I suppose so, yes. “ She gestures to herself, “Obviously I wasn’t expecting visitors so I excuse my attire.”

The other woman chuckles, “Well we should blame Emma really. She shouldn’t have you got you drunk.”

“Emma…?”

_Emma._

Regina stiffens as she relives the confusion of the previous night; Robin, Emma, the book. _The book._

* * *

 

“Why hasn’t she texted me back? It’s been what? 4 hours!?”

Emma glares at Ruby expectantly, as if the waitress’ unbeknown psychic power will provide Emma with answers deeper than the daily consumption of cinnamon.

“Oh Em, don’t worry about it. She’s the Mayor. She’s super busy.”

“No. Of course she’d check her phone. She probably read it and rolled her eyes or maybe even laughed about it with Robin.”

Ruby snorts, “I don’t Regina has _ever_ giggled over a text. She’s not 14.”

“I’m so stupid. Obviously I don’t ever stand a chance with her. She’s the Mayor and I’m just- well- me and-“

Ruby slides a hand over Emma’s mouth, “Shhh. It’s Regina.”

Sure enough an immaculately dressed Mayor slides in through the doors of Granny’s. There’s a pause before she sits down, as if the brunette tastes something in the air. If she sees Emma, she doesn’t show it.

“Should I go over?”                                                                                         

Ruby sighs, “Yes. No. I don’t know!”

“Helpful.”

“Fine. Go over,” the waitress snaps, glaring sharply at Emma before disappearing back in to the kitchen.

The blonde swallows. Thickly. The night before had left her heavy with confusion and a desire to run after the older woman the second she had slipped away. Regina’s galaxy was messy, this she knew, but wasn’t everyone’s? Emma chews over the knots in her brain before acquiescing. _Okay. Let’s do this._

Regina’s gaze is swimming in her coffee. There’s something distant in the light of her dark eyes, unguarded even- a vulnerability uncovered. Emma pauses, allowing her finger tips to dance over the wood in anticipation.

The brunette’s head snaps up and the other woman retracts her hand.

“Hi,” she begins awkwardly. “How… how are you?”

“Fine, thank you.” The reply is instinctive and dripping with a lie. The slight tremor in the brunette’s left hand doesn’t go unnoticed.

“No you’re not.”

Regina stiffens and Emma marvels at the mutation in her eyes- cold. She opens her mouth yet there is nothing but a swollen silence between them.

“Would you like to come out with Henry and I this evening?”

It’s unexpected and hangs messily; Emma watching the flicker in the brunette’s eyes nervously, the left hand still vibrating. Regina catches Emma’s gaze and snatches her hand back, tucking it under her right arm; folding it away neatly as Emma suspects the woman does with every unexplained feeling.

“Yes... that would be nice,” Regina manages to get out and the words feel warm yet alien on her tongue. Emma smiles and slides in beside the woman, their shoulders meeting and the friction of the touch subsiding in to comfort almost impulsively. The blonde knows that Regina Mills is complicated. Beautiful. Yet so complicated and Emma is completely willing not to unpick but witness because that’s what reading should be.

* * *

 

_The night air followed her down Mifflin Street. It was a soft chill, luring its victims in to a false sense of security before attacking the skin bitterly. Robin’s silhouette was seen before he was and Regina shivered, unnerved. Emma’s book was still in her grasp yet she slipped it under the wing of her coat as she approached the man. He smiled at her and everything felt so wrong._

_“There you are,” he whispered, taking her hand, stroking her thumb, unaware that Regina was losing herself in his too large grip._

_“Robin, I’m tired,” she lifted her chin up at the man who had she had let in to her broken world. A man who had only seen fragmented false happiness._

_“So am I,” his eyes danced seductively and she looked away. “How about I come in for a little bit?”_

_Regina’s heart began to proliferate for all the wrong reasons. She shook her head, leaning in to his stance only to plant a kiss so light it was barely there on his rough, rough cheek. “Goodnight Robin,” she breathed through tightened breath._

_He sighed, tapping her chin lightly. “You really are something else, you know? Fine, goodnight Regina.”_

_She watched as he walked down the path, a slight sway in his step which Regina had no doubt was due to alcohol consumption. Fumbling, she fit the key in the lock-_

_“Wait. What **were** you doing round Emma’s?”_

_The woman sighed. Robin was infuriating at this hour. “Pizza,” she replied casually, praying that the darkness masked the tint evolving on her cheeks._

_“Happy families,” the man laughed yet it wasn’t friendly. The night twisted his eyes in to something sinister, a shadow of a repressed past. She swallowed and tried to ignore the stretched grin and the rough hands and the echo._

_“I hope I’m not going to have to compete with Emma, am I?” He chuckled harder, his British accent thick and heavy. “Imagine that? She was the one that even gave me dating advice.”_

_She stiffened upon hearing these words. That date had been magical, a blinking moon, the ocean and that darkened rose he had presented her. And there was the car with the blonde sheriff and her stupid poetry which sounded so damn beautiful against the night._

**_No._ **

_“Goodnight, Robin.”_

_Her house was too quiet without the boy and the woman. She could breathe without the shadowy man and his scratchy hands. And breathing meant thinking, reading between the lines. She was tired, sleep deprived and so very confused. Her lights flickered on and off in the bathroom as she began to undress, slowly at first then frantically. Everything was too tight- too Emma- and yet not enough. Hands found wine after that, bottles of it. It was addicting; Emma or the wine she couldn’t tell. She slipped in to the living room chair with ease- mind tapping everything and nothing all at the same time. **The book. Emma’s book.**_

_Her hands skimmed the heavy brown cover, sinking in to the indentations, casting spots against the dull shimmer of her reading light._

**_Once Upon A Time_ **

_It wasn’t like the others- this book. Emma was right, it was dark. Angry pen marks tore across every page, drawings, words, sometimes just a scribble. Tales of an Evil Queen pushed in to a marriage, a corrupting imp teasing her with power and a princess fighting for the good of all. Regina hated that princess and Emma did too for the raven haired beauty was defaced on almost every page- a broken queen glorified in replacement._

_There were poems. Regina traced the lines until her vision blurred from either tears or wine and probably both. It was as if Emma had given the other woman her soul, such a delicate yet powerful gift that Regina didn’t know she was ready for. If she even wanted._

_And she can’t stop reading._

* * *

 

Robin doesn’t let go of her hand for the entirety of the journey. Emma glances at it sharply when they arrive, her jaw set. Regina had no choice but to invite him and Roland (he was her _boyfriend_ after all). Their relationship was too fragile to rest upon “Emma and I are just friends” because they aren’t and even if neither party acknowledges so, the truth is there. Between the lines.

“Where are we going?” Robin asks cheerfully, unaware or entirely aware of the tension and deliberately ignoring so.

“I thought we could go to the beach,” Emma replies carefully and Regina watches as she tucks golden strands behind her ears that persist on becoming untucked. It is enchanting and the brunette buries her gaze because she isn’t supposed to be enchanted, is she?

“Sounds perfect,” Regina smiles at the blonde yet the words fall in to the wind and Emma turns away.

Henry and Roland talk throughout the walk, bonding over superheroes which Roland is too young to fully understand. Emma hangs back awkwardly, still narrowing her eyes at the couple’s entwined fingers. Regina loosens her grip as if to slip out but Robin catches her again, tighter.

“So… Emma, do you have any family here in Storybrooke?” Robin begins and Regina wants to roll her eyes.

“No, just me and Henry.” She says it with defiance as if daring Robin to continue.

And he does. “What about your parents… are they?”

Regina stiffens and notices the vacant stare in the other woman’s eyes; the green clouding over with a past that the brunette knows is not too pleasant.

“I never knew them.”

And Regina breaks the distance and places her spare hand a top of red leather. Emma flinches, both women entirely still.

“That must be hard,” Robin says quickly and it breaks _something_ because a black glove is no longer resting on a shaking arm.

“Robin-“Regina falters, “Let’s talk about something else.”

Emma laughs then, loudly. “I’m fine, Regina. I’m over it.” It’s hollowed and encases the three in a broken hug.

“Mom, look!” Henry yells from in front, pointing at the sky. The adults tilt their gaze to see a large, rounded moon.

“Wow,” Emma breathes and Regina shivers. _Because it’s cold_.

“Imagine being a part of that; a star amongst millions,” Emma smiles softly.

Robin stills beside her and suddenly she can’t breathe. “Is that a quote from a book?” Robin is asking, and the moonlight is too bright and Emma is too _Emma_ and she wants the stars, red jackets and a giggling boy in a stripy scarf.

_It’s a story of some sort, yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued… OH how I do love to write angst. A little more angst coming your way then probably a ton of fluff. Probably. Heheh.   
> Reviews are so motivating. Any feedback is always welcomed.

**Author's Note:**

> The question is… is it Henry’s book?  
> Please do review if you would like me to continue – I have so many ideas.


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